


Salt in the Blood and Sea

by Penethia



Category: Star Wars, Star Wars: The Force Awakens, Star Wars: The Last Jedi - Fandom
Genre: I know next to nothing about ships and sailing but I'll give it a go, Matriarchy Mother Lovers!, Mermaids, Mythology - Freeform, Pirates, Psych! Kylo is the one with a fish tail, Star Wars AU, This isn't your Disney mermaid story, little Rey, naked fish, reylo au, the waters are lovely dark and deep, they will sweetly drown you
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-05
Updated: 2018-12-09
Packaged: 2019-04-18 17:18:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 14,293
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14217945
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Penethia/pseuds/Penethia
Summary: "Mermaids cannot cry. Sirens cannot fall in love.They kill and swim.They sing and dream.Destroy and seduce.Pierce and enjoy.Mermaids do not cry. Sirens do not fall in love."- Conny Cernik





	1. Sing Me a Song

**Author's Note:**

> I never liked the stories my mother would tell me about mermaids. She would use words like "beautiful" and "sweet" and "good".
> 
> I didn't want the gentle turquoise waters, so clear you can see the corals below, I wanted the waves so dark they seemed black. I didn't want to see their depths. I wanted the fear, the mystery.
> 
> I want creatures of the deep. I want their darkness and power. Beauty, yes, but a beauty that would drown you.
> 
> This is a story for that, I suppose.

 

 

**1686 A.D.**

 

 

They say she would trade her own mother for a cold ale and something to eat at the pub. Well, if she had a mother she would. Being the orphan she is, alone for as long as she can remember, she doesn’t have any kin to betray. She is no saint though, not Rey of Jak’s Port. Abandoned by her salt wench of a mother and nameless pirate father, she has been a pariah upon the good people of Jak’s Port for over a decade.

 

She had been given to the derelict orphanage on the outskirts of town but had quickly been run off by the nuns when she bloodied a whelp’s nose.

 

The good Father had tried to bring her into the arms of their Lord and savior, but had cast her aside as well, rubbing the bitemark on his hand which had been won when he strayed from his vows with the girl.

 

Finally, she had been made Unkar Plutt’s problem and there the little wharf rat had stayed. Plutt fed her just enough to keep her alive and worked her hard. From sun up to sun down she could be found scurrying about the docks, making repairs, scrubbing decks, mending sails, and dodging a swift kick or two when Plutt felt she was dallying. Many who came to port though she was a mute, yet when directly spoken to, she would respond clearly and could do so in several languages. Plutt prized her above all his other wharf rats because of this.

 

“My little mimic,” he would coo, rubbing his sweaty, meaty hands over her tan shoulders. “See how lovely her voice is? Speak for them, girl. Say it in _French_.”

 

 It wasn’t long before she began to sing. If she could not soar like the white birds above, she would sing like one. Balanced high up on a swaying mast, she would hum while she stitched. Some tunes familiar, sung by the sailors and Plutt’s patrons alike, while others were of her own making. Pretty things that eventually spread their wings and took flight from her mouth, becoming full songs that would float over the docks below. Plutt could barely contain the glint in his bulging eye when patrons would demand the little rat sing a pretty tune for them. They found her enchanting on the docks, and irresistible in the light of the oil lamps. Tossing her coin for her songs as they drank deeper and the night wore on.

 

“My little bird,” he would coo, stroking her cheek with grimy hands. “Such a lovely voice, such a pretty mouth. Sing for them, sparrow.”

 

No longer a dock rat, she was now Rey the Sparrow and she found strength in her song.

 

When she turned eighteen she left Plutt’s fine care, a dagger placed against his fleshy throat was needed to encourage him to agree. Walked straight out to the docks and onto the first ship that would take her as far from Jak’s Port as possible. Under the command of Captain Han Solo and his first mate Charles “Chewie” Wook, she sailed forth on the great blue expanse and didn’t once glance back at the strip of salt and sand that had been her entire world.

 

She was Rey Sparrow now and she was free.

 

Captain Solo would not have been her first pick of employer. A dashing man with greying hair and fine wrinkles on his skin, she was certain he had once been a charmer. However, he walked a rather blurred line between honorable captain and devious pirate. He vessel was sanctioned and had papers to prove that his ship was indebted to the British Empire and King James II, however, he was a man of means and often took on cargo whose coin would make its way into his pocket and his alone.

 

“What good King James doesn’t know won’t hurt him, eh?” He would say, laughing at his own secrets.

 

Rey liked watching him from the corner of her eye. Solo had all the noble features she imagined any decent captain should have, yet he was a contradiction to his title. He ran his ship well and ensured her care was tended to, fretting over the ancient thing and his crew. A good man, well minded, and practical. At the same time, however, he swaggered about her decks and cast them all forth on half-baked, far flung voyages. A bottle of hard drink in his hand and eyes set on the horizon. Claiming the gods of the sea and his ship would see them through, they owed him that much at least. He belonged to the grand Empire and whispered of monsters and myths all the same.

 

Rey thought him half-mad, half-brilliant, but unmistakable loss marked him as well. Cold and heavy, it lingered behind the fire in his gaze. Like most men of the sea, she wondered if the cause was a woman, though not having the heart to ask any of the other crew mates, she let the thought sink beneath the waves.

 

It went without saying though that _The Falcon_ was a piece of junk, an odd collection of parts from various other vessels kept her afloat. Some, she was certain, had been come by unlawfully. Her master’s will, and crew’s loving dedication, was the only power which kept _The Falcon_ from collapsing into the sea mid-journey and taking them all with her. It is during one such smuggling expedition that they are caught in a violent storm. Waves as tall as buildings thrash _The Falcon_ side to side as though she were a child’s toy. Captain Solo braced against the helm, holding the wheel tightly while the torrential downpour roars around them. Somehow his voice roars louder, ordering his sailors to man their positions and hold her steady while the ship sails on. As lightning flashes and cracks above them, Rey swears she can see a mad smile on his face.

 

“Sparrow,” he yells over the storm, pointing up. She whips around and glances up to see the main sail has come undone from its rigging and beats around wildly. The blasted thing is giving Finn a rough time and the man can’t get a handle on furling it.

 

“Chewie,” she calls out to Charles beside her. “I’m going up.” The grizzled first mate only nods to her and thrusts a drenched rope into her hands. Quickly, with deft fingers she ties it around her waist as Chewie secures the other end to the mast itself. If she falls and lands on the deck, it will hurt like hell, but she’s survived it before. If she falls into the sea, then the rope and a silent prayer to the Lord will hopefully suffice to let her keep her life.

 

Lithely she scales the main mast, rain plastering stray locks of hair to her face, she soon joins Finn at the first cross beam and together they tie the sail back into place. Finn, a sailor since boyhood, claps her on the back before scaling back down the mast and ropes. Rey makes to follow him when his shout snaps her back to attention.

 

“Rey!” He screams, halfway down his climb. “Brace yourself!”

 

Rey barely has time to clutch onto the shroud line before a massive wave crashes over the ship, below her men shout and hang on for dear life. She is sure she can hear Chewie’s growling swears below her, though it all seems distant, too far for her to worry over. She has her own problem to deal with.

 

She’s falling, limp form dangling in the open air as dark waves rise, grasping and clawing, to snatch her from the sky. The ocean pulls her in and encircles her.

 

Her body is tossed around in the swell. The rope pulls taunt around her, straining, she manages to keep what little air she went under with in her screaming lungs. The salt water burns her eyes, but she must keep them open, try to gain her bearings and swim.

 

Lightning illuminates everything around her. She sees movement, hazy in the turbulent water, further off in the distance before darkness blinds her again. Thanks to the lightning she now knows which way is up and begins swimming.

 

Another flash. More light. Her lungs ache for air. She sees the flicker of movement once again, but this time there are more. Curses, she thinks, kicking harder, she must have fallen into a school of sharks. Above her she can see the faint glow of the oil lamps that light the ship. She is so close. Darkness.

 

A final bolt shatters through the storm and for a few precious seconds the water around her glows. Rey is reaching, straining towards the surface when she feels scales brush against her leg. Out of instinct she kicks out, but connects only with water, she glances below her but sees only darkness. She looks back up and comes face to face with a nightmare. Black eyes staring into her own, surrounded by pale skin like that of the dead. It reaches for her, pressing large webbed hands over her head, pulling her in towards a split face and rows of teeth in a black maw.

 

Rey breaks the surface, sputtering, gasping, and somehow screaming. She feels something grasp at her ankle, but it slips away as she is hoisted into the air. Above her she heard the crew shouting to pull, Chewie the loudest among them and foot by foot she is hauled back onto the ship.

 

When Finn frees her from the rope, she vomits half of the ocean up on deck. Several of the crew smack her across the back and tell her she needs to pray to her God for thanks. Finn, nearly beside himself, crushes her into a fierce hug.

 

“Sparrow,” Han remarks, ruffling her soaked hair, worry tinging his voice. “You’re a blessed one, you know that? The ocean is a covetous thing, it doesn’t usually like to give back what it takes. Empty the rest of your stomach or all that salt will make you sick. Get some rest. You’re done for tonight, kid.”

 

Only Finn lingers after the rest of the crew disperse. They’ve made it through the worst of the storm and now go to find a moment of rest.

 

“Finn,” Rey coughs, the salt water burns her throat. “How long was I down there?”

 

“Couldn’t have been more than a minute or two,” he says. “Chewie saw you go in and started pulling your tether in fast as he could.” He gently pats her shoulder and grins. “Come, Capt’n is right. You need rest.”

 

Rey allows him to help her stand and guide her to the crew’s quarters. Laying in the hammock, swaying with the waves, she finds no sleep. Only haunted visions, black eyes and cold hands dragging her deeper beneath the waves.

 

 


	2. Of a Lass Who Is Gone

 

 

They make port two days later in St. Lucia. Rey had never set foot on St. Lucia and, after weeks out at sea, she was looking forward to stretching her legs and exploring. However, before she’s no more than a few steps down the gang plank, a heavy hand clasps her shoulder.

 

“Hold it, Sparrow,” says the Captain behind her. “We will be at port for a few days, you’ll have your chance to go out. Youngest crew member has first watch. Today, you stay with the ship.”

 

“Sir—” Rey begins to argue.

 

“This isn’t a request, it’s an order, Sparrow,” Han growls, jabbing a finger at her. “Ship. Stay. Watch. That storm was rough, check the sails and mend them if needed. We’ll be back before sundown with food and drink for you.”

 

Rey stands atop the stern deck, cheeks puffed, boot angrily tapping against the worn planks as she watches the crew vanish into the bustling crowd. Above them, the port city weaves its way up the steep, emerald hills. Plaster and wood buildings peak out from the lush greenery, each its own gemstone of vibrant color. Out on the docks, forlorn, she can faintly catch the echoes of spirited voices and mouth-watering smells, and she yearns to be among them. With one final huff, she turns heel and stomps off to find the tool kit below deck.

 

She spends the better part of early afternoon high above _The Falcon_ , stitching and mending the sails. Tedious, mind numbing work, but it keeps her hands busy as she stares at the port city. Choosing the exact buildings and paths she will take tomorrow. Late afternoon, when the sun blazes overhead she naps in a patch of shade, begrudgingly pleased with the precious few hours of solitude. A woman as part of a ship’s crew is an uncommon sight, the privacy to be womanly even rarer. After her rest, she convinces a dock boy to fetch her a bucket of fresh water and some soap. The small lad makes good on his promise, rushing back with the water, he skips off with four-pence for his trouble.

 

Rey delves below deck, snatching a fresh scrap of cloth from her chest, she sets about preparing to bathe herself.

 

“Keep an eye out for me, will you?” She says to _The Falcon_. “It’s just us ladies here now.”

 

Peeling away her loose breeches, quickly followed by her hose, Rey stands in only her long linen undershirt, with its wide sleeves that cinch tightly at her wrists, and her soft leather jerkin. Pausing, she listens closely and, hearing nothing, continues to undress. Popping the buttons undone, she slides off her jerkin before yanking her undershirt over her head. Deftly, she unlaces her shabby corset and unbinds her hair. As bare as the day she was born, Rey quickly combs through her tangled locks with her fingers. Crouching, she dips the cloth into the water and begins vigorously scrubbing her skin in the dim belly of the ship.

 

She still has half a bucket of water by the time she is cleaned. With well-practiced movements, she soaks and scrubs her hair. Relishing the feel of freshwater dissolving the salt away. Once done, she plucks a clean undershirt and scissors from her belongings and sets about trimming her hair. Pulling sections forward by hand and measuring against her chin, she cuts away five months’ worth of chestnut hair.

 

Once it would have pained her to do so, she had worn her long hair in a line of buns on her head. Hoping perhaps one day she would pin her own curled locks, styled like the finely dressed ladies in silk gowns. Even her first few weeks aboard _The Falcon_ , she had kept her hair long, but the fact of the difference in sex between her legs was burden enough while fighting to carve out a life in a man’s world. However, she could certainly look the part, thin from a childhood of malnourishment and a chest which never filled, she had sat still as Finn sheared her hair on deck one night. Staring out at the ocean waves while she fought down tears, she scattered her hair over the water. Her first of many offerings.

 

Once satisfied, she dresses and returns above deck to let the breeze dry her.

 

As the sun sets low on the scarlet horizon, Rey realizes that the crew has no plans to return tonight. With new anger to fuel her, she attacks the main deck with mop and bucket. She’d be on her own tonight. No sleep as she kept an eye on the shadows for fools brazen enough to try to board the vessel with sticky hands. The short sword on her hip wasn’t for show.

 

When the sky resembled the dark purple of a bruise, and the sun nearly dipped below the black horizon, Rey lights the oil lamps. Faint hope that they would keep their promise to return guiding her hand.

 

“I bet they’re out there with painted women,” she grumbles to herself. “Feasting, drinking, and enjoying themselves like the cock-eyed basta—”

 

“ _Hey now_ ,” says a familiar voice behind her. “Certainly, you aren’t talking about me? Not when I spent my own coin to bring you food and drink.”

 

Rey whips around to see Poe Dameron stepping onto the ship. His smile easy, eyes teasing, as he holds up a small canvas sack. “Care for a drink, Sparrow?”

 

“Dameron,” she welcomes, smiling back at him.

 

The two of them sit at the back of the ship near the wheel, the stern deck providing them with the best view of the port illuminated by lanterns under the night sky. Poe has always been generous with both word and coin, but the small feast he brought is lavish in her eyes. Laid out between them, they pick away at flat bread dipped in a thick, spiced curry—an island specialty— grilled fish still warm from the fire while oranges, lemons, and bananas add sweetness to the savory. He fills her cup with honeyed ale and talks animatedly of the sights he saw earlier while in town.

 

Not long after, Finn returns and soon the three of them are laughing through their second bottle of ale. Rosy cheeked and giggling, Rey can’t recall the last time she had enjoyed herself so much.

 

“What was I to do?” Poe shouts, throwing his arms in the air. “When the governor’s wife demands you strip, _you strip_!”

 

“No,” gasps Rey. “ _You didn’t_.”

 

“Oh yes, I did,” continues Poe, mischief in his eyes. “On the bed, on the chaise, on the balcony—"

 

Rey bursts out laughing, nearly falling backwards. Beside her, Finn shakes his head and sighs. “Let’s have a story,” he says, clapping his hands together once. Even in the dim lamp light, his cheeks are dark with embarrassment from his crewmate’s recounting of carnal delights.

 

“Marvelous idea,” Rey agrees. “A story if you will, Poe. You always tell the best ones.”

 

Poe grins at her. “Who am I to deny? A story you shall have, _fair lady_.”

 

Rey daintily holds out her arms, elbows bent, wrists limply dangling in a poor imitation of nobility. She bows her head in thanks while fluttering her eyelashes. “I thank ye kindly, _good sir_ ,” she replies. Both men laugh at the ridiculous sight.

 

Poe drinks deeply from his cup, reaching for the half empty bottle, he pours another glass. “I think I have one,” he begins. “I heard it from my mum when I was a small boy.”

 

“Is it a true one?” Asks Finn, taking the bottle from Poe’s hand.

 

“The best tales always have a grain of truth to them,” says Poe, pausing to collect his drunken thoughts before continuing. “Once, may year ago, there was a young sailor by the name of Anakin. A right proper man, skilled with both ship and sword, he made his fortune early in his life and built a fine home by the sea.”

 

“That’s the dream,” says Finn, raising his cup in the air before pressing it to his lips.

 

“One day, the sun shone brightly, and the breeze was cool, he decided to take a stroll along the water. Curiously, not long after he hears a sweet voice rising over the waves lapping the sandy shore. He follows the sound and comes upon a woman standing atop a rock, startled, she ceases to sing and stares at him. She is the loveliest creature the poor man has ever laid eyes on. Hair black as night tumbles down over her shoulders, her face is the moon, and her eyes glow like starlight.”

 

Poe leans in, lowering his voice. “An eerie beauty, inhuman and wild. Anakin was bewitched, the woman had no name, so he christened her Padme. Named after a pale, foreign water flower he saw during his travels to the East. He wed her and made her his wife the next day.”

 

Rey can see Padme in her mind’s eye. Standing tall with the ocean at her back, dark hair swirling around her in the salty spray. Silent wanting in her eyes as she gazed at her would-be-husband. Unconsciously, she reaches up to stroke a clipped lock by her face, twirling the strands Rey wonders if perhaps she too could be considered beautiful. No luminous moon, her skin too browned from days spent outside laboring, but perhaps she could be the sun. Rey tucks the thought aside and quietly vows to find a mirror in town. Curious to see her face again after all these years.

 

“The fool loved his bride fiercely, blindly, not willing to see the strangeness in her movements or the danger in her songs,” continued Poe. His voice rhythmic and deep. “He fathered two children by her and they lived together for some time.”

 

Rey’s brow furrows. “I don’t understand. How was he a fool for loving his wife?”

 

“Patience,” Says Poe, waving his hand through the air. “All in due time, little bird. You see, one day a storm rolled across the island, catching a Father while he was walking to the nearby town. He came upon their home and asked for shelter from the storm, but the moment he laid eyes on Padme, he saw her for what she was, screamed and called her demon, succubus, defiler of man. Terrified, Padme ran from her home and down the hill with her husband chasing after pleading for her to return. However, the woman he loved and wed transformed before his very eyes the moment she stepped into the waves. Her pale skin shed itself to reveal pearl scales, glinting in the sunlight peaking from behind storm clouds, her legs tangled together to form the tale of a fish.”

 

“Poor bastard,” murmurs Finn, stretched across the deck on his back.

 

 “Worst though were her eyes, the same eyes he so lovingly knew stared back hungrily. She opened her mouth and sang a melody not crafted by godly men, reaching for him with scaled arms. Against his will his legs moved him forward towards the water. She was his wife after all, she would take what was hers. Had it not been for the good  Father, I am certain she would have succeeded. The man pinned Anakin in the sand, chanting prayers until the monster dove into the silence of the deep. Anakin lived with his children for a short while, however, his wife’s call in the night was too much to bear and he cast himself off a nearby cliff in the end.”

 

Poe sits silently leaning back against the railing. “Mum always called him a fool,” he adds. “Said it was his fault for messing with dark things that corrupt and take. I often wonder if such creatures are capable of love.”

 

“It is not in their nature to love,” replies Finn. “They drown what they desire and feed on their lover’s flesh.”

 

Rey stares, mouth open. “They _what_?” Finn turns his head to her.

 

“Mermaids, Rey. The songs make them out to be pretty, and they are, at least you’ll think they are before they prettily drown you.”

 

Rey feels herself falling again, body suspended between heaven and sea. If she dares close her eyes she would sink under water, blind to everything except darkness, and cold hands grasping her close as teeth sink into her flesh. Tearing and ripping bones from her body, her screams drowning with her as she is dragged further and further from the light of day.

 

“I never knew,” she breathes, shivering despite the warm night, clutching her knees to her chest. “Have either of you ever seen one? A mermaid, I mean.”

 

Both men shake their heads. “No, can’t say I have,” Poe sighs.

 

“Best for a man not to,” adds Finn, clutching the small wooden cross beneath his shirt. “Even if you escape, they say their song continues to haunt a man. Marks you. Some of the crew whisper that the Captain—”

 

Poe catches Finn’s eye and the younger man silences himself. “Forget it,” Finn finishes. “Best to not speak of evil things. Has a way of bringing their misfortune upon you.”

 

It isn’t long before the gentle hand of strong drink soothes the two men to sleep. Finn, still laid out on the deck, snores lightly. Poe remains seated against the railing, head tilted down over his chest. Rey, not quite ready for bed leaves them be, the night is warm and the air free from the smell of rain, she quietly paces up and down the main deck. Measuring her steps to the lapping of small waves against the hull, her mind brimming with images of the night’s story. She finds it difficult imagining Padme as a mermaid, her human form merely a mask to hide the creature beneath. Even more puzzling is why she hadn’t taken Anakin during their first meeting. If what Finn said was true, then he was her prey, so why live with him and beget children by him? Surely, in her own way she must have cared for her husband.

 

Rey pauses her pacing, glancing up at the full moon above to mark the time when she hears it. A rhythmic _thump thump thump_ in tune with the waves and her steps. She glances over at the sleeping men, but the sound isn’t coming from them. She turns, listening closely, the noise leads her to the edge of the vessel. Leaning over the edge she gazes into the dark only to see the face of a man peering back up at her. His knuckles resting against the wood of the ship as he bobs up and down in the gentle waves.

 

“ _Are you mad?_ ” Rey hisses. “Sharks hunt at night in shallow water, _you fool_.”

 

As if to add to her point, she hears thrashing water off in the distance. Too loud for a mere fish.

 

The shore is over fifty yards away, too far a swim for comfort and Rey doesn’t know how long he has been in there kicking about. Surely attracting the attention of anything nearby. Hastily she snatches a length of rope, knotting one end to the rail, she flings it over the side. “Grab hold,” she orders. “I’ll pull you up.”

 

The man breaks his eyes from her for only a moment to regard the rope dangling beside him. Pushing off from the ship, he glides further away, never breaking his gaze.

 

Rey is nearly beside herself now. “Stupid man,” she cries. “Let me help you!”

 

The words are barely free from her lips when the retreating form darts forward faster than possible, like the fin of a shark slicing the surface, Rey barely has a chance to realize what she is seeing. The man—no, the creature, dips low and flings itself forth from the water. Soars through the night air, terrifyingly pale in the moonlight, hands reaching, black tail thrashing in its wake. Out of pure instinct Rey draws her sword and slashes upwards. Feels the drag of her blade through flesh, blood splattering across the deck. The creature shrieks, hands clutching air, it falls, bouncing off the side of the ship and shatters the black water below.

 

Poe skids across the deck, pistol drawn. “Rey?” He asks, bleary eyed but awake, he glances around looking for an intruder. “Rey, where is he?”

 

She lifts an arm, pointing toward the water. Poe regards her for a moment before glancing over the edge, the nose of his pistol guiding the way. He sees no one in the water, but the evidence of their visitor is clear from the blood he so kindly left behind for them to mop up.

 

“Curse him,” Poe sighs, holstering his pistol. “Looks like you carved a chunk from him, Rey. He’ll be easy to find. We’ll post a notice “man half-cut open and wanted for thievery”, how does that sound, eh?”

 

He smiles at her, behind them Finn lowers his own gun. “Everything okay?”

 

“Yeah,” Poe calls back. “Our little Sparrow took care of the man—”

 

“It wasn’t a man,” she whispers.

 

“Rey?”

 

“It wasn’t a man, Poe. _Oh God_ —” her sword falls from her hand, clattering against the deck. “I’m going mad.”

 

“Hey, hey,” he says, stooping to pick up her weapon, “you’re fine, Sparrow. You’re fine. I’ve seen you slice a man’s throat clean open and not bat an eye, what has you frightened?”

 

“It wasn’t a thief,” she breathes and inside her she feels the chain snap. “It looked like a man, but it was no man. They’re real, just like in your story, merfolk are real.”

 

She shuts her mouth and swallows hard in a vain attempt to keep the words at bay. Even if they are truthful, and she knows in her very soul they are, if she doesn’t say them they won’t be true. They won’t be real. A nightmare cannot be real.

 

Inhaling deeply, she continues. “I know it’s face. I’ve seen it before during the night of the storm, when I went into the water.” She pauses, counting. “That was days ago, miles away, and yet it’s here. How is that possible?”

 

“Rey,” Poe murmurs, “come. Sit down. The drink has been too much tonight.”

 

 “How is that possible?” She whispers once more, knowing her nightmare has only just begun.

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Witnessing a Great White leap from the water to snatch its prey is a horrifying sight to behold.


	3. Say Could That Lass Be I

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Naked fish. Take that as you will.
> 
> Enjoy, readers!

 

 

The days docked in St. Lucia’s port are nothing more than a blur for Rey. She retreats below the decks and makes nest in the highest crew’s hammock she can claim. At first the Captain and crew left her be, partially due to Poe’s insistence to hang around the crew quarter’s entrance and frighten away anyone who sought her out. Finn told everyone that she was ill. Taken under by too much sun and not enough rest. He would bring her bits of food and water, refusing to leave until he witnessed her eat and drink; often Rey woke to him softly murmuring prayers beside her. Finn’s concern for her brought angry tears to her eyes and she hated herself each time she saw the concern in his expression. She wasn’t weak. She survived without parents, survived Unkar Plutt’s care, and survived every fight life had thrown at her. Bloody and bruised, but damn well alive. 

 

Those fights had been real though, against real men and women, not some creature from sailor’s stories and legends that enticed humans into the sea and devoured them.  Rey had never truly been afraid, but now she was. Monsters were real and they lurked just below her in the water’s depths. The Falcon’s hull suddenly seemed too thin, the wood too fragile to offer protection. For the first time in her life Rey did not fight, she hid and wallowed in her own shame and terror.

 

However, after two days Han shoved past Poe, shooting the younger man a look that shut him right up, stomped down into the dim belly of the ship and shook Rey’s shoulder. With bleary eyes she startles and rises from her hammock.

 

“C-captain,” she murmurs.

 

“Get up, kid.” Han saya simply. Pausing, squinting to better see her. She stares back at him with blood shot eyes and tear stained cheeks. “Wash your face and meet me on the deck. You have five minutes.”

 

When Rey steps back on deck, the sun is setting and many of the crew present cease their tasks and openly stare. One of the younger crewmates turns to whisper to another nearby before quietly laughing. Rey felt her cheeks grow warm but levels her gaze at them and began to make her way over, intent on making the whelp remember she was not anyone’s amusement.

 

Before she could enact the brutal reminder, Han blocks her path, hands in his pockets and a lazy grin on his face. “Mornin’, Sparrow,” he said before glancing up at the sinking sun. “Well, more like ‘good night’ but we can ignore the trivial things for now.”

 

“Good evening, Captain.” Rey says, watching the two men use the Captain’s timing to slink away.

 

“Rested up?”

 

“Yes, sir. I am feeling much better.”

 

“Good!” He bellows. “Then I am certain after two days you’re ready for a drink. We’re going to the pub. Come.”

 

“But, sir—“Rey calls out, panic tinging her voice. Leaving the ship means walking along the dock which offers little protection.

 

Han raises a hand without looking back and motions for her to follow. “Sparrow. Drink. Now.”

 

………………………………………………….

 

 

“Think he has a chance?” Finn asks. Leaning close he nods towards the other end of the pub. Rey glances over to find Poe leaning up against the bar, doing his best to strike an attractive pose, and talking up one of the pretty barmaids. Her amber hair gleams in the lamp light as she makes a show of cleaning mugs, but even from this distance Rey can see how she leans slightly forward to best show off her protruding bosom.

 

Rey takes another sip of her ale. “She likes him.”

 

“Nn-no,” Finn slurs. He’s on his third drink. “She hasn’t said word to him _the whole time_.”

 

“Care to bet if our dear Poe returns to the ship tonight or not then, hm?”

 

Finn casts his gaze from her, to Poe, and back again. “The usual amount?”

 

“The usual,” Rey agrees, and they clink their mugs together before gulping down the remainder of its contents. She sighs contently, noticing Finn smiling at her she huffs. “What? Is there something on my face?”

 

He shakes his head. “Just glad you’re okay, Rey,” He says, motioning for two more ales. “We were worried about you. I’m sorry.”

 

“Sorry?” Rey asks. “You’ve done nothing wrong, Finn.”

 

Finn shakes his head. “No, it was obvious that Poe’s story frightened you, yet I didn’t stop him. We made you see things that night, things which have no place in God’s eyes, and for that I apologize.”

 

Rey fights down the panic rising in her chest. Of course, Finn didn’t believe her, he had been asleep when the monster attacked. Chalked it up to too much drink, stories, and an unlucky thief who got more than he bargained for, was still on the run and nursing his wound. She couldn’t blame him though. No one wanted to accept that there were true monsters in this world. Two more mugs brimming with ale are slammed down in front of them. Rey clasps the polished wood cup and drinks deeply before standing.

 

“Going to find the Captain,” she mutters. “Keep an eye on lover-boy over there.”

 

Finn glances towards Poe and groans. The barmaid was now leaning closer and toying with a lock of Poe’s hair. It was obvious who would be winning that bet tonight.

 

“The usual,” Rey reminds, far more cheerful now, before she pushes through the pub door calling for the Captain. He isn’t immediately outside, but she is certain he had walked out this way only half an hour before. The cool evening air has brought out many people who stroll down the dirt street, pour out from one of the many drinking holes, or seek a partner for the night. Glancing up and down the busy street she spots the Captain further down outside another pub. Pushing past several men, she makes her way over. A bit addled by the drink she trips a few times before reaching him. Grinning, she thumps his back harder than she meant to, sending him staggering forward. H catches himself just before he falls on his face.

 

“Oops! Captain, I am so sorry—”

 

“Dumb, whore,” the man who-is-now-obviously-not-the-captain rights himself and spits at her. “Watch where you’re going.”

 

The warm alcohol in her stomach makes her brave when she replies. “Whore? Good sir, I don’t believe you know what a whore _actually looks like_ on account that your face would frighten away any lady. Much less allow you to _sleep_ with one.”

 

His hand cracks hard against her cheek before grabbing her roughly by the upper arm. Rey, stunned, hardly had time to react before he drags her out of the alley and down one of the more secluded docks. Behind them two other men, clearly in on the plan, follow a few yards behind. The rough man tosses her forward but continues to stalk towards her. Fear pumps through Rey’s veins as he advances, and it is all she can do to keep out of arm’s reach.

 

“Look,” she shouts. “It was an accident and a grown man should be perfectly capable of taking an insult once and a while.”

 

“A man also needs to show a girl her place when needed too,” he shoots back. Suddenly he stops charging, crosses his arms and smirks. His companions come to a stop beside him. “Where now, girlie?”

 

Rey nearly falls off the dock. Whirling around there is nothing but a few inches of wood and a short plunge into the black water. Were is any other day or time she would have bid farewell and leapt into the water to swim to shore. Now though, now she shudders as the small waves lap against the wooden beams that rise from the water to hold the dock. She’s trapped.

 

“You don’t frighten me.” She bluffs, edging forward slightly to put more space between her and the black water. “Move. Let me pass.”

 

“’Fraid not,” says one of the other men. “We was lookin’ for a whore an’ now we ‘ave one.”

 

Rey bares her teeth. “Touch me and you lose that hand.”

 

“It isn’t my hand you should worry ‘bout, _miss_.”

 

Rey raises her fists and grits her teeth. If these fools think they’ve found an easy lay, then she intends to make them regret ever having considered the notion. However, instead of blows, Rey feels something clench around her ankle, wetness seeps into her stocking, as wooden planks rise to meet her. Falling forward on her hands and knees, glimpsing the horror in the men’s faces where there had been delight before, she’s yanked over the edge of the dock and into the water. She slips beneath the surface with only a small yelp escaping her lips. Pulled down, down, down by her ankle.

 

Rational thoughts evade her as her need for air grows. Instinctively she kicks out to swim to the surface, but her leg is caught, jerked, and something cold slides up along her body to eye level. Black eyes meet her own, black surrounded by luminous white. The salt water burns, but she can’t close them, can’t look away. Cool fingers run over the exposed skin of her collar bones and neck, one hand tracing up before threading into her short hair while the other lines the features of her face. One cold webbed thumb pushes roughly at her lower lip. She bites down hard on the member.

 

A high-pitched shriek echoes around her and she is released in a rush of movement and water. Desperately, Rey kicks out again and swims with everything she has towards the surface. She breaches, gasping for air, eyes burning, and screams into the quiet night. A cold hand clamps down hard on her mouth, the other wraps around her shoulders and pulls her back under. She kicks and fights, but the creature is inhumanly strong. Held firmly and blind in the dark, she feels its body move against her back to propel them forward.

 

It feels as though mere moments have passed before she is shoved upward and into open air once more. Coughing and sputtering, she desperately treads water while trying to gain her bearings. Before her looms St. Lucia, a dark outline against the night sky. The port lights glimmer in welcome, however she is much too far now. They won’t hear her call out and she has a bigger problem to deal with in the current moment. The pale face bobs in the water not far from her, watching. Rey wonders if its toying with her, wants her to fight more before it goes for the kill. Desires excitement before it feeds. She should be terrified, instead she is angry at its cruelty. Angry with everything really. The men at the docks had rattled her further with their intentions. Kill or be killed—that was the way of life— but don’t make your prey suffer more than necessary. Even the worst pirates and smugglers she’s encountered gave their victims the courtesy of a quick end. Their dignity still intact.

 

She bares her teeth once again and shouts “Come on now, beast! If you’re going to kill me then do it!” Slapping the water’s surface, she splashes an arc of water at the creature.

 

It doesn’t respond, merely floats closer, only its eyes linger above the water before disappearing beneath the shallow waves. Rey waits for the teeth, the pain, but it never comes. From below an arm loops around her waist and tugs her under, however there is no violence in the action, only the rush of water and her own heartbeat hammering in her ears.

 

They repeat this strange dance nearly a dozen times more, each time she still lives, and on the final resurface she spots a small island peaking from the horizon. No more than three hundred yards away, its sand illuminated in the rising sun. A small flock of seagulls, specks of white in the sky, lazily hover above.

 

“Is this it?” Rey demands, exhausted and weakly treading water. “Is this where you’re taking me?” She doesn’t expect a reply and she certainly doesn’t receive one. The creature only stares before slipping its arm around her once more, as though it has always done so. As though it were the most natural thing to do.

 

……………………………………………..

 

 

Flung forward into shallow water, her feet sinking into sand, Rey clambers and splashes her way onto solid ground. Above the gulls shrilly cry at her sudden appearance and many of them take off from the sand around her, a chaos of bird calls and flapping wings. She feels her heart soar with them. Somehow, she is still alive.

 

For a moment she lays in the surf, her limbs heavy and sinking into the wet sand while waves wash over her legs. Knowing this too must be another respite before she is dragged back into the water to resume their strange journey once more. But the minutes tick by and still she is left to herself on the beach, her salt-soaked hair drying into crispy clumps under the rising sun. Curious despite exhaustion, Rey pushes herself up to look over her shoulder.

 

In the shallow water it waits. The same focused gazed aimed at her, though this time it allows more than its eyes to rise above the surface. Bare shoulders, pale, and dotted with thousands of white scales gleams in the sunlight. A striking contrast against dark hair and eyes. Below, curled in the shallow water, Rey can see the great length of a dark tail. Monstrous and nearly twice as long as a man is tall.

 

“You truly aren’t human,” Rey mutters to herself, suddenly she pauses. Shoots the creature another glance, she realizes that he hasn’t tried to follow her. _He can’t follow her_.

 

Nearly delirious with exhaustion and glee, Rey scrambles from the water and manages several shaky steps before she falls again. This time the sand is dry and clings to her still soaked clothes, but she is several feet from the edge now. Well out of reach from her kidnapper.

 

“Ha!” She shouts, nearly crying with delight. “You made a right mess for yourself. How do you plan to grab me now, hm? You can’t get up here with that tail of yours.”

 

The creature merely regards her with a blank stare. Rey, brave in her victory, continues without pause.

 

“I just have to wait you out, yes, just wait. A ship will pass by in a day or two and I’ll sail away where you can’t follow.” She shouts, kicking a pile of sand. The fine grit sprays across the beach. “You’re just a stupid fish after all. An overgrown, coconut brain of a fish who thinks it can—”

 

It would have been comical had Rey expected it. How the creature nearly rolled its black eyes before swimming closer to the shore. Rey, still confident in her newfound plan, continued to taunt the beast. Even going so far as to make childish faces at the merman, waggling her tongue and pushing the tip of her nose back with her thumb. She hadn’t expected that when the water was too shallow to swim that the creature would wrest itself further onto shore, using its elbows to pull itself from the frothy surf. It is nearly at her feet when she realizes what is happening. Yelling, she leaps backwards, scaring a new flock of seagulls into the air, their screams drown out her own.

 

“Stop, you beast” she helplessly shouts. Still he chases after, its whole body now completely out of the water. If not for her fear of being dragged back in, Rey would have thought the sight of his scales gleaming in the light was a thing of beauty. “I said stop!”

 

Surprisingly he does. A heartbeat, in which the two of them lock eyes, is all that passes before the creature before her shrieks in pain; flings itself onto its back, the long, midnight tail thrashing against the sand. Rey slowly backs away, hands raised with palms forward, unsure if she should run or help the poor creature. Gasping, she watches the dark scales disintegrate to the sound of snapping bone and in-human screeching. In moments the agonizing scene is over, the clouds of sand settle, and Rey is faced—not with a monster—but with a man.

 

_A very, very naked man._

 

“ _Christ and all His Saints_ ,” she cries. Throwing her arms up to shield her eyes. She hears him grunt, bones still cracking, and then silence. Rey dares to peek.

 

He is standing now, examining his new form in the sunlight, marveling at his hands and delighting in flexing his fingers to find the digits no longer connected by transparent flesh. He looks up and once again their eyes meet. Not a monster, no, he looks back at her with the eyes of a man. Dropping his hands to his side he eagerly starts towards her. Stumbling over uneven sand with unpracticed steps.

 

“No!” She shouts. Swatting the air between them and stepping back for good measure. Horrified beyond words at what has transpired within minutes, and very conscious of the man as naked as a newborn babe trying to get closer to her, Rey glares him down. _Damnit! That was a mistake_. She casts her eyes upwards, as a strangled cry wrings itself from her closed mouth.

 

“Don’t you have something—” she demands, “a cowl or something you could put on? You’re indecent.”

 

He tilts his head to the side, curious.

 

“No,” he replies simply.

 

 

 


	4. Merry of Song, She Sailed on Her Way Pt. 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A huge thank you to MelodyoftheRiver for beta reading this one and correcting my horrific tense problem. This chapter is dedicated to her because a while back I said I'd put her in one of my chapters and I may be slow, but I don't lie. Hopefully she likes her persona.
> 
> Another shout out to everyone who leaves such kind comments for this fic. Sometimes when I feel exhausted or can't figure out what I want to do in a particular chapter, someone will leave a comment and they never fail to give me the kick to write. Writing for yourself is fun, however, when I know someone else out there finds enjoyment in your work, well, how can I not be encouraged to do better?
> 
> That being said...I know y'all want the romance and angst and fluff. I've also been told to get on with describing Kylo-Fish with as much sensual detail as I am able. I'm listening and will do my best. 
> 
> Anyways, thank you and please enjoy this chapter!

 

**A Lifetime Ago. A Memory.**

 

When Rey was the newest ward of Unkar Plutt, and smarting from a beating he had given her for talking back, she had fled to a remote corner of the port. Away from prying eyes who would inform Plutt of her whereabouts. She swung herself over the edge of one of the docks and hid away on the sliver of shaded sand between the stone wall and port. Pulled her knees close to her chest and allowed the tears to slip unabashedly over her puckered and bruising cheek. After a long cry, she rested her scraped chin on her knees and traced pictures in the sand. Doing her best to ignore her empty stomach, she drifted to sleep as the sun above blazed down on the small port island.

 

When she woke up, the sun had long made its decent beneath the horizon and the lamps were lit. Rubbing her hands over her arms to keep away the chilled night breeze, Rey hoisted herself back up on the deck. However, her arms, still bruised and sore, couldn’t bear the weight of her frail body and she nearly lost her grasp when a hand snatched her by the scruff and pulled her up.

 

Rey lashed out, snarling, as years of abuse had ingrained her with the instinct to fight back when someone touched her.

 

“Aye!” snapped a woman’s voice as a gentle hand popped her across the head. “Watch your little claws, child.”

 

“Let go of me!” Rey shouted back. Her small voice cracked with thirst.

 

“I already did,” the woman replied, amusement tinting her voice. Rey stopped swatting, pausing to glance up at her rescuer’s face. Indeed, a woman did look back, much younger than Rey had expected, with clever eyes and a smile that was familiar with laughter. Her clothing was unusual to Rey, a long tunic inlaid with vivid patterns and golden thread fell nearly to her knees, covering pants which flared out from the thigh and length of her legs before gathering tightly at her ankles. Rey could see her hair was dark, much darker than her own, but tucked away under a light length of fabric draped artfully over her head and around her shoulders. “Tell me, little one, I’ve been here for a few hours, have you been hiding under this dock the whole time?”

 

Rey averted her gaze to stare at her dirty bare feet. “Not ‘spost to talk with strangers,” she murmured.

 

“I see,” replied the young woman. “I am called Yusra. What are you called?”

 

“Rey.”

 

“Well then, Rey, now we are not strangers. Will you speak with me now?”

 

Rey nodded, flicking her eyes over Yusra’s. She liked the woman’s face, her eyes slanted when she smiled, and Rey wasn’t used to people gracing her with smiles. “Hiding,” she offered. “I am not ready to return yet.”

 

“And what of those marks on your face,” Yusra pried softly.

 

Rey straightened, puffed out her chest and huffed. “I’ve had worse.”

 

Yusra grinned at her, but it didn’t reach her eyes. She stood and moved further down the dock. Rey followed her with her eyes and sees rolls of parchments, various instruments, and a leather satchel waiting for their owner’s return. “Come,” Yusra urged. “Sit with me for a while before you return to your people.”

 

Rey hesitated.

 

“I have some bread and roasted fish,” Yusra offered, her voice lilting each word like a song. Rey followed after her, nearly falling on her offerings of skewered fish and a loaf of bread the size of Rey’s hand. While the child ate beside her, Yusra unrolled one of the smaller charts and resumed her work. Marking the map and reworking lines with precise care. After Rey has licked her fingers clean of every drop of grease and crumb, she sits cross legged, watching the woman work by lamplight.

 

“A map.” Rey stated.

 

“ _Mmm-hm_ ,” Yusra replied.

 

“Why are you changing it?”

 

“I am afraid that it is isn’t entirely correct,” Yusra mused. “See here? This port is twenty miles from this island here, yet we covered this distance much quicker. I believe it is closer to twelve, so I am correcting it.”

 

Rey frowned, thinking. “Who for?”

 

Yusra looked up at her through her lashes and grinned. “My Abu. He is the captain of our ship and I have been creating maps and charts since I was old enough to ink my own quills.”

 

 “So…” the girl paused, “you’re the map-maker?”

 

The woman chuckled. “It’s called cartography, child. I’m a cartographer.”

 

“Car…tog…” Rey tried to sound out the syllables, unfamiliar with the bizarre word, having only had Unkar Plutt to teach her the little vocabulary she possessed, and even then he was no great scholar himself.

 

Yusra smiled at her, “There’s a new word for you. Try to remember it. _Car-to-gra-pher_ ,” she broke up the syllables.

 

 _She doesn’t look scary_ , Rey thought. In fact, Rey found herself enamored by the strange young woman, her kind eyes and her soft foreign-sounding manner of speaking. So, over the next few days she slipped away every night and found Yusra at the dock waiting night after night with small offerings of bread and stories to pass the time. With the stars glimmering and the moon rising high in the night sky, Rey listened, enraptured, to tales she had never heard before about places she had never been. The heroes and villains had names unfamiliar on her lips, but she memorized them within her heart all the same. Yusra would scribble on her maps and draw her diagrams, all the while, keeping the young girl engrossed with her stories, weaving beautiful, shimmering worlds that followed Rey into her dreams. Rey had never felt so full and happy in all her short years.

 

“What about monsters?” Rey asked one night, sprawled out on her back on the rough dock. “Monsters who fly or swim.”

 

“Do not speak of such things,” chided Yusra. “Do not bring misfortune upon yourself. Put your pouts away and I will tell you instead of Djullanar of the Sea.”

 

“Djullanar?” Rey questioned. “Why is she of the sea?”

 

“She is one of the folk who live beneath the waves, deep in the sea their palaces shine like pearls and moonlight. Djullanar and her people live there in peace, a paradise teeming with sunken treasures, corals, and colorful fish.”

 

Rey breathed deeply. Her eyes wide with joy imagining such a paradise so unlike the world she lived in now. Her bruises have faded, and she was learning how to avoid Plutt’s bouts of rage, but she remained afraid and was never quite full. “A mermaid,” she sighed dreamily.

 

Yusra paused her work, quill suspended in the night air as she considered the comparison. “Similar, but not quite. Your people say mermaids have tails, yes? Djullanar walks on legs as we do, however she and her people are blessed with the ability to breathe underwater.”

 

Rey can hardly contain her delight. Bouncing on the balls of her feet, she pleaded with Yusra to tell her more. “Fine, fine,” Yusra laughed, bringing her quill back down onto the parchment to scribble noisily, “There was… a powerful king once with many wives, but he loved none of them until one day he met a woman…”

 

………………………………………..

 

 

She never thought her friend’s tales held a coin’s worth of truth. Not until they sprang to life in front of her very eyes and dragged her from reality.

 

Flighty memories of Yusra’s soft voice narrating tales of mermaids and sea-creatures flitter through Rey’s mind as she quickens her pace across the white sand beach of the island. The woman had long since left Rey’s life, sailed away the next morning on her father’s ship to the far-away lands she had spoken of. She was the first friend Rey had ever known, the only one for years until she stepped foot onto Han’s ship. Rey had been heartbroken when she left and as the years passed, so too did the ache and memory of the tilting laughter and kind smiles.

 

But now, as the sun scorches the tiny island overhead, her final story burns through Rey’s thoughts. After all, what makes the story of people from the sea more real than having an actual man following a few yards behind who, until three hours ago, had been closer to a fish than human. Rey glances over her shoulder for the thousandth time and sighs.

 

He's still there.

 

Blissfully he is more covered than he had been earlier. After the first lap around the island, Rey couldn’t handle his unabashed nakedness and, wriggling free from her cotton shift, had thrown it on the ground and continued walking. He had paused then, regarding the article of clothing when she shouted back while arranging her vest to make herself decent.

 

“Cover yourself with it!”

 

Blessedly he was able to pull it over his head without assistance. Though it fit him tightly across the chest and shoulders, falling just above the knee, Rey knew it would have to do. For once she was thankful for the oversized, ill-fitting hand me downs from Finn.

 

On their fourth lap around the island Rey has a fair guess as to its size. No more than a hundred meters long and perhaps eighty meters at it’s widest part. Nearly a dozen coconut palms crown the highest point of in the middle, while patches of mangrove cradle the far side of the island and extend into the shallows. Rey eyes the clear blue waters around the mangrove trees intensely, certain that she would easily find crab and small fish there for food. For now, though, she had to focus and figure out a way to either trap or rid herself of her shadow. There was little around to fashion as a weapon and though she could easily scale one of the taller palms, she wasn’t certain if he could climb as well and trap her there. So, she has just began walking briskly and thus far he hadn’t attempted to catch or harm her. Just followed her, both circling the small island over and over. Eventually though Rey would need to eat and rest, what then?

 

On their eleventh lap, Rey, truly exhausted and sloshing through sand, stopped and turned to face him. Other than a flash of surprise in his dark eyes, his face showed no other emotion as he too ceased walking. Inhaling deeply, Rey released it slowly to calm her nerves.

 

“I assume I’m not your meal,” she began. “You had every chance to devour me and did the exact opposite of that. I can only assume you have other motivations and for the time being I am safe.”

 

He gives no reply either way, Rey hadn’t expected him to, and she continues.

 

“You look human, but you aren’t. However, _I am human_ , and I have human needs. I need to rest and eat or else I’ll die. I’m going over there now—” she points towards the coconut palms, “and I am going to sleep before I search for food. You do whatever you like, but if you try to lay another hand, er, fin—then I swear I’ll not be an easy meal. Do you understand?”

 

This time he nods and turns towards the shoreline. Rey stifles down a yawn and nearly crawls up beneath the shade of the palms. Pulling a few fallen leaves into a makeshift pallet she lays down on her side, facing the water. Blinking, she sees him several yards off standing beside the water’s edge. She blinks once more and he is gone. Only an inky shadow against the brilliant blue water gives him away, yet even then the shape slips further into the dark blue depths.

 

A small part of Rey, irrational and foolish, sinks in her chest. “Even you leave, huh?” She whispers to herself. “I’d leave too if I could.”

 

Sleep takes her quickly. The rhythmic sound of waves lapping against the shore, palms swaying in the light breeze and errant gull cry sing her to sleep. For the first time in many weeks, Rey sleeps soundly on warm sand cradled by the ocean.

 

………………………………………………

 

 

Screams pierced through her dreamless slumber. Sleep made her limbs heavy, her senses dull, but without seeing she knew it was him. Without understanding why, she pushed herself up from her resting place and ran down the sandy slope to the water’s edge. She found him there just as before. He had pulled himself completely from the water and somehow triggered the transformation.

 

Falling to her knees beside him, instinctively she cups her hands around his head as he screams himself raw. She can feel it then, beneath the dull snap of bone and sinew she feels his body rewriting itself into its human shape. Violent tremors and vibrations below the delicate scales, every muscle spasming as his tail thrashes like a sail in a storm. Her touch on his face gives way to skin, clammy with cold despite the heat of the day. Between the shrieks tearing through him, he would go quiet, just panting. Dragging air into new lungs, unused, as a newborn babe’s. Moments passed and with them the worst of it, instead of guttural screams he moaned, clenching his mouth shut until the ache worked through him. Final pieces molding into place. Hard earned humanity born from a monster’s agony.

 

Peculiarly, he realizes he is not alone and looks up at Rey kneeling over him, her hands still holding the sides of his face. A thumb absentmindedly stroking the new skin of his cheek.

 

“Its you.” He hums with relief as his scales fall away to reveal long pale legs. Rey marvels how the darkness of his eyes recedes towards the center into dark pupils, leaving behind white edges. He blinks once and looks back at her, completely human now, the only evidence of violent exertion is his heavy breathing.

 

With her free hand, Rey rubs the remnant of sleep from her eyes. “Fool,” she chides gently. “Who else would be here? Now put your clothes back on. Why must you always be indecent?”

 

His humming grows deeper. Rey can only assume its fish language for delight in her embarrassment, but he obeys her order, pulling the shift from the sand where he left it. Rey realizes that isn’t the only thing lying in the sand. A Barracuda the size of which she has never seen lays partially covered in white grains from his thrashing. The creature is easily half her size in length and, from the gashes on it, obviously lost its final fight. Rey watches as he grasps the massive silver fish by the tail and holds it out to her expectantly. When she doesn’t take it immediately he pushes it into her hands and stands.

 

Rey, kneeling in the sand, a massive fish in her arms, looks up him. “Did you…?”

 

“Hunted,” he replies, and Rey thinks she hears satisfaction in his tone. “Swam deep. Sharks fled. This will do.”

 

“Right,” Rey replies slowly. “You were searching for a shark?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“The sharks… _fled_ from you?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“Of course. _Sharks_. Predators of the oceans and seas are terrified of you.”

 

He doesn’t speak this time. Only watches her with anticipation and curiosity. Briefly, Rey feels like she could sing and dance like a fool and he would watch her completely enraptured. Instead she sighs and stands. “Take this up there,” she commands before hoisting the fish back at him. “I’m going to find some dry wood and make a fire. We’ll have this ready in no time. I’m certain you’re just as hungry as me.”

 

“No,” he says simply. “Ate others in water.”

 

“’Course you have,” Rey sighs again.

 

…………………………………………….

 

 

Rey nearly shoves him away while she works to spark a flame. Tedious and difficult even under the best circumstances, and nearly impossible on a small windy island with a fish-man hovering uncomfortably close watching her every move. With the light falling into the sea and beads of sweat on her brow and neck, the friction of one of her laces on wood sparks and catches the tinder nest beneath. Rey kneels, cupping her hand around the weak flame to protect it, and gently blows. Within minutes the fire rises, dancing in the breeze; Rey leans back to hold her palms to the warmth.

 

A quick twist and rumble from her stomach sends her back to work and before long she has the meaty parts of the Barracuda sizzling on stakes over the flame. Wiping the back of her hand over her sweaty face, she sighs, content, and notices him watching her.

 

“ _What?_ ” She barks. Hunger having made her agitated.

 

“Your face,” he says slowly, earnestly, testing the words in his mouth. “I like it best in sunlight. This works too.”

 

Rey feels her cheeks flush with warmth and quickly changes to topic. “You frightened me earlier. I had no idea you could change and—” she pauses, realizing something and feels a fool for not having questioned it earlier— “ _how are you able to speak?_ To understand me?”

 

He shrugs. Never relinquishing her face from his gaze. “I learned. You are not the first man-child. Not the first time I walk,” he pauses. Working the words through his mouth. “Difficult. Forget if in water too long. Mouth forgets.”

 

“Do your people…don’t you talk to one another?”

 

“Yes.” Scoffing. “Not like this. Body and songs.”

 

“You sing?” Rey breathes. “How can you communicate without words?” The fire pops beside her and she tends to the fish, flipping them over to cook evenly. When she turns back he is closer, eyes wide and reflecting the glow of the flame. She recoils, but he makes no move to follow.

 

“ _Oi!_ ”

 

“You have no idea.” He breathes.

 

“No idea about _what_?” She hisses. Rey didn’t like how he could move without making a sound. It set her hair on edge and her heart racing. He hadn’t dragged her into the water to drown, but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t. He isn’t aware of her wariness, or at least pretends not to notice.

 

“You sing and yet do not know.” He continues, eyes ablaze with curiosity that un-eases her further. She doesn’t like being pitied by some monster from the sea.

 

“What are you on about?”

 

“Let me teach you.” He nearly begs. “ _Please._ ”

 

“Teach me what?”

 

“Our songs.”

 

Rey throws back her head and laughs. His black eyes shift subtly from her expanse of exposed throat, to open mouth, and back. Thrown briefly from his desperate thoughts he drinks in the sound she makes from deep within her chest and marvels at how high the notes reach. He recognizes it and tries to remember where he had heard it before, for what feels like centuries ago, when her eyes meet his again. Breathless, her chest heaves and the laughter still plays at the edge of her mouth.

 

“You are a mad creature,” she gently chides, and in the back of his mind he realizes she is the only one he’d ever allow speak to him as such. “I’m afraid I won’t be able to learn your songs though. I’m not like you.”

 

…………………………………….

 

Much later, in the depths of the night, when the wind sleeps and the moon dances across the sky, Rey sits quietly at the water’s edge. Her boots long abandoned to dry by the fire; she lets the small ripples of waves roll up and over her toes, straining but never quiet covering her feet half buried in the sand.

 

Well fed and tired still, she listens to the drumming waves and ponders the absurdity of her situation.

 

“A princess locked in a castle,” she muses softly, chin resting on her knees. Suddenly her eyes harden and she frowns. “Get ahold of yourself, woman. This isn’t a castle and you most certainly aren’t royalty.”

 

Movement further down the beach catches her attention. She sees a large dark shape rounding the bend of the island and realizes it is him. She can just make out the shape of him and watches as he turns to and fro, pausing between each movement. Rey frowns, reaching she flicks a spot of sand into the water.

 

“Not a princess, Rey, and he isn’t some prince.” She growls to herself. The growl shifts in her throat, turning into a hum of her own design before catching onto a familiar tune. One she sang in Plutt’s ale house a lifetime ago. Growing in her chest, she mouths the words to piece the melody together, and because she remembers she raises her voice to send the song to the sky.

 

 

_Tell me sailor, did you hear? Your maidens gone away,_

_She left on a Spaniard’s ship, your maidens gone away,_

_Pledge yourself to me sailor, and I shan’t ever stray,_

_No I shan’t ever stray._

_No I shan’t ever str—_

 

A hand closes over her mouth, stifling her scream, and yanks her backwards. Head slamming into unyielding flesh, she stares up into eyes as black as hell. Instinctively she reaches, clawing at any surface and dragging long red lines across the panes of his flesh. He jerks her to stop her struggling and for a moment Rey believes this is the end, the moment he decides she is better suited for food. The errant thought hurts in more ways than one.

 

Just as quickly as he silenced her, she is released and alone. She sputters, crawling back and away from him, she opens her mouth to curse him and the sea witch who birthed him when he raises a hand to silence her.

 

“ _No_ ,” she shouts. “You don’t get to attack me and then tell me—” the words die on her lips as a hollow sound echoes around them. Deep, mournful, and so inhuman it makes the hairs on Rey’s neck stand on end. The cry is followed by another and another further out in the ocean.

 

“What is that?” She whispers to herself. His head snaps to the right, faster than a human’s could, and Rey claps her hands over her mouth to stifle her gasp.

 

Standing, framed by silvery moonlight against the dark ocean, quietly listening for sounds she cannot perceive; Rey finds it difficult to breathe. Her chest tightens and somehow her body doesn’t seem large enough to hold all of her. To hold her sudden and inexplainable fear. Yet she knows, deep within her bones, that the voice echoing from the dark ocean is not kind.

 

She shivers, shifting her weight as she clasps her arms around her. The small movement catches his attention and his head snaps towards her this time. Rey truly gasps this time. The orbs of his eyes reflect the firelight like mirrors back at her. Burning within his face like the flames of hell. Rey is pinned beneath the glowing gaze, every instinct screaming in her to flee.

 

“No more songs,” he warns suddenly. “It calls others.” Casting one more glance across the water, he turns and makes his way back to her. His eyes still shining in the darkness. “What is the matter?”

 

She looks away; unable to bear it. “Nothing. I’m fine.”

 

He pauses a few paces in front of her. The firelight claims his features once again, make him appear warm and human. He studies her intently with a glint of pleasure in his eyes that Rey is averse to. She shivers again and hates herself for it.

 

“Blink more,” she says icily, gaze averted as she backs away from him towards the fire. “You’ll appear more human.” She doesn’t see the confusion flicker over his features followed by hurt, he turns his face away, blinking several times before he speaks.

 

“You are angry. Scared.” He murmurs.

 

Rey stops. Clenching her fists, she spins on her heel to glare at him over the fire. “I am.” She hisses. “I’m bloody terrified! I’m stranded on this spit of land, held captive here against my will by a monster who could devour me whenever it likes!”

 

“I will not hurt you.”

 

“ _You’re a monster_ ,” she roars. “I’m just a fool for forgetting that. Touch me again and I will make you regret it.”

 

It hits her as she storms away from the firelight to be alone with her raging thoughts. A memory, one which she had forgotten until now. On that final night, before Yusra journeyed far away from Jak’s Port, she had told Rey the story of Dijullinar of the Sea and her lover, the King. As the sky lightened on the horizon Rey had asked Yusra what became of the woman from the sea. _Was the king good to her? Did her family miss her? Did she live a long life?_ Yusra took a moment to collect her things and roll up her finished map. Stood and stretched away the soreness from sitting so long in one place. Looking at the glowing horizon, Rey couldn’t see her face, but she heard the tell-tale smile in her words.

 

“Yes,” Yusra had whispered. “They were happy until the day her king died, and she returned to the sea. She was happy.”

 

 _Lies_ , Rey thinks, _there are no happy endings._

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The reason Kylo's eyes reflect light like some animals is because he has a Tapetum lucidum, which allows them to see better in the dark. It is most commonly found in predator and carnivorous species, as well as deep sea creatures. Which Kylo most certainly is.
> 
> I feel it adds to his inhuman eeriness.


	5. Merry of Song, She Sailed on Her Way Pt. 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Mermaids cannot cry. Sirens cannot fall in love.  
> They kill and swim.  
> They sing and dream.  
> Destroy and seduce.  
> Pierce and enjoy.  
> Mermaids do not cry. Sirens do not fall in love."
> 
> \- Conny Cernik

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Depression is a hell of a ride. If you are still here, still reading, you have my thanks and my hope that this little tale has brought some joy to your day.
> 
> Thank you always to Melody for kicking my ass into gear and never quite letting the rain clouds cover the sun. 
> 
> Enjoy!
> 
> Warning: Depiction of mermaid death.
> 
>  
> 
> ~.~

The sun had risen and set three more times since the night she had roared at him. Named him monster with venom on her lips and hellfire in her eyes. Wounded, and without a sound, he had slipped from the island back into the water. Bit down and suffered The Change silently beneath the waves. Every scale on him reverberated with the hatred in her voice. Echoed within his skull in the blue silence and followed him regardless of how deep he swam.

 

He would not abandon her, but he certainly wouldn’t allow her to scream at him like some unweaned youngling. He should have been gentler, the fear turned anger in her eyes wounded him, but panic and possessiveness hadn’t allowed him to consider how she would feel being silenced before the others could locate where her song had come from.

 

Four males, far too close for comfort answered her that night. Three leaving not long after she gave no response, thankfully unaware, yet one remained. Swimming too far out for him to be of any real danger, but still an unwelcome presence.

 

Kylo wanted to rip the other male’s throat out.

 

Instead he had returned to the water, half from the need to protect the girl, his land-maid, and the other from her rejection. Her voice screaming monster echoing after him like some cursed song.

 

Kylo drifted deeper down as he turned her actions over and over in his head to examine.  She was a contradiction in every possible way and it nearly exhausted him. However, he knew that it was her nature to be such just as it was for every female like her. Gentle and warm as waves lapping against a shore; the sway of life within the coral beds. Shifting between breaths and words into the savagery of mountainous waves as black as night; gnashing teeth sinking and stripping flesh and bones.

 

She would be darkness and light, life and death. Both would drip from her lips like water from scales and he would desire her more because of it.

 

She needed more time though to remember her true nature, to revoke the humanity she wore like a skin. It pained him to see how she confined herself to it. How she drowned within the air she breathed, burned beneath the sun, not knowing it could be any other way. Struggled within the chains of a lower station in life when she was more powerful and terrifying than any land-male who ever beat or starved her.

 

The image of her gazing down at him, wild eyed with blood coating her lips and chin drifted through his indolent ponderings as he settled his long serpentine form into the sand bed. He could hardly wait.

 

She would be glorious.

 

……………………………………………………………..

 

He sleeps. And as he sleeps he dreams of her.

 

_Always her._

 

An old dream from days when he was younger and newly released from his mother’s care. The males journeyed then in search of food. He struggled to swim with them, some twenty others, through new waters and unfamiliar sights.  He was smaller then, his now black pearl tail and scales a dull gray, his spines barely protruded through the pale skin of his back.

 

His sire swims a few meters beneath him, the cords of muscle twinge and flex with each movement,  agile despite the great length of his form. In the shallow pools where he had been birthed, cared for and coddled by the Salt Females of their pod, it had been easy to languidly move through the gentle ebbs and flows of the currents. Now, in the inky blue waters of open sea, he is glad to know his father swims closely. A barrier between him and the endless depth below.

 

His only protector.

 

A Salt youngling is easy prey for the more cunning and dark creatures that lurk within the depths.

 

A pitched cry echoes through the pod. _Blood in the water. Fresh. Feed._

 

Many of the males scatter to follow the trail, the copper tang mixed within the salt. His sire is beside him then, gills furling to pull the scent in. Urgency in the quick flicks of his tail as he strains his senses to locate the source. He is not alone this year; he has his youngling to feed as well and a mate who will rip him open if he fails to bring back anything less than the strong child he promised her in his wooing song.

 

They are alone now. His sire turns in the opposite direction the others went while he lingers for only a moment, glancing at their retreating forms before he chases after his sire.

 

The scent grows stronger.

 

The sea floor rises to meet them.

 

Soon the warm, shallow water is tinged pink in the light of day.

 

Close now, so close that he can taste the blood. His sire startles, halting their hunt, with strong webbed hands he pulls him close, dark eyes scanning all around them. _Wrong._ The water feels _wrong._ The tang of blood is off now that they are so close.

 

But he is hungry. The scent and taste of blood in the salt overwhelms his young senses. He breaks from his father’s grasp and propels towards the source with startling speed. Urged on knowing others will soon come and they will have to fight for their meal.

 

He breaks the surface, blinded by the light shining harshly above. He blinks and then he sees it.

 

A female crumpled in upon herself. She is half changed, grotesquely so, her partially formed tail lays awkwardly bent on the shore while her torso and head are submerged in the shallows, barely visible through the cloud of crimson emanating from her beaten and slashed flesh.

 

His sire is there then; eyes wide at the sight of the female so viciously mutilated.

 

“What happened to her?” He hears his young voice ask, feeble and sharp to his ears in the dry air.

 

“Humans.” Is all his sire says and he knows it to be true. The sand is dented and scuffed all around the corpse with the forms their strange limbs make, narrow hollows pressed where they have been. Where they had used their weight to beat and maim the female with their glinting weapons.

 

“River Kind,” his sire adds, quirking his brow up. “Strange to find them so far from the inland. Why did she risk coming here?”

 

He had heard the term before, long ago from his mother. River Kind, one of their species who resides inland, beneath the shade of willows and shallow waters. They are darker, wilder than Salt Kind, and do not feed on fish flesh or creatures that scuttle through the sand.

 

They feed on humans.

 

Fresh waters do not burn human eyes, and so they come. Easily, naturally, without fear they come to the water’s edge and cast in their metal tipped strings to ensnare fish. They come on their dark wooden vessels, move with the currents to new lands. They come, when the sun is hottest and brightest in the sky sea, and they are weary then. Their human flesh tight, and darkened, seeping out their salt water, they come into the peaceful rivers. Unafraid. Unaware. Unknowing they are hunted.

 

The River Kind _delight_ in human flesh.

 

The body lurches, startling both of them, and a small figure struggles out from under the dull copper scaled tail. Wide golden green eyes meet their own and the feral thing sputters a sharp hiss towards them.

 

Instinctively, his spine raises and he bears his teeth at the youngling, snarling in return.

 

“Leave her be,” his sire warns and he is shamed. The female youngling is small, much younger than himself, and covered in the River Kind’s blood. She regards them both only a moment more before falling to her knees beside the body, small wails tear from her lips.

 

_Mother. Mother. Mother._

 

His sire rises then, without a sound he Changes and sloshes through the shallow, water towards the pitiful sight. “Let me help, little one,” he hums. With gentle hands he lifts the broken body from the water and places her fully on the shore. “I smell no humans,” his sire says. “Stay with her. I will bring the others and we will send her inland back to her people.”

 

A sharp protest rises in his chest, but his sire is gone and he is alone with the beastly little creature. She regards him only for a moment, her chin pressed to her naked chest, eyes narrowed in silent challenge. When he makes no move to come ashore, she turns and skitters across the sand towards the tide pools further down the shoreline.

 

He watches her go and quietly follows after through the water, too shallow to fully extend his tail to propel himself easily, but he doesn’t venture out deeper. Instinct cautions him to remain close to shore and away from the reach of larger predators.

 

When he reaches her, she is crouched on the jagged edge of the largest tide pool and intently gazing in. She huffs, frustrated, a low whine reverberates from the back of her throat.

 

He raises himself a fraction above the water’s surface so his mouth is exposed.

 

“Are you _hunting_?”

 

She flashes her tiny razor teeth at him, the whine shifting into a growl, before her eyes dart towards something he cannot see in the pool. She is gone, a loud splash the only evidence she had ever been there. Intrigued despite himself, he hoists his upper body onto the rough strip of rock that separates the pool from the sea.

 

She’s thrashing about in the water, tiny hands popping out to grasp for the silver fish unlucky enough to have been trapped in this particular pool. However, she is not quick enough and they all evade her with ease. After a moment, she thrusts her matted head through the surface, coughing and sputtering.

 

“What are you _doing?_ ” He snaps. “Scavenging for scraps? Answer me _youngling_.”

 

He expects her to snarl and hiss at him again, shocked instead that her lower lip quivers as she roughly wipes her palm under her nose.

 

“My mother called me Rey,” she murmurs. “She doesn’t call for me anymore. No one calls for me, no one remembers that I’m still here.”

 

Without meaning to, he reaches for her, urged on by a twisting sensation in his chest.

 

A rock beside him explodes. Sharp flecks of stone shredding through the scales and tender flesh of his side. Voices—human voices—pierce the silence and he sees them then. Closing in towards them in their swaying movement, their arms raised and grasping all horrors of shining weapons.

 

Instinct screams to flee. Dive deep and swim until the surface light cannot touch him. They cannot follow so deep, their weapons cannot reach him there.

 

Instead, against all his sire had taught him, he scrambles further across the sharp rocks, straining his whole body— _reach!_

 

His pale hand closes over hers and with strength he did not realize, he drags her back into the water with him.

 

_It isn’t enough, he isn’t quick enough._

 

Hard hands pierce the water around them, clamping down on his scaled flesh. He thrashes and shrieks crying out for his father, the other Salt males, anyone. The humans drag him back into the tide pools, water turning red from his blood—one of their shining weapons is hoisted high above him, his eyes unable to look away as it arc through the air intending to sever his tail—

 

Her voice rises above everything, young and weak, yet stronger than she knows. It warbles through the hot air, softening the humans’ fury and they still. The shining weapon falls from the human’s grasp and splashes harmlessly into the tide pool beside him.

 

Half entranced they turn towards her standing waist deep in the shallows, her thin arms crossed over her chest, yet her eyes blaze.

 

For one brief moment he believes he can escape.

 

Then three humans break from the crowd; shining weapons glitter in their ears and along their wrists and ankles. Tinkling as they swiftly move to toss a heavy net over him, while the third thrashes into the water, a rock in hand, raising it high to crash down against the youngling’s head.

 

His world goes dark the moment the rock strikes her head.

 

……………………………………………………………

 

 

He remembers cold dry air, human fire, and his sire’s fearful eyes above him. Razor teeth tear the net he hangs in while gentle hands carry him over land and to the water’s edge. He feels himself pulled through the swells and deep, deep down into the sea. He hears his mother’s song, impossibly far away, yet she calls him home all the same.

 

His sire vanishes. He grows. He hunts sharks. He fights other Salt males. He forgets.

 

Until he nears a dry and barren island while following a pod of dolphins. He hears it then. The voice. The song. Gentle and strong, it calls to him. She is so high, perched atop a human vessel like a bird mending one of their wind catchers.

 

 _She sings_.

 

Weakly threading power through her human words, unknowing how she had weakened herself to be like them. Rendered her song pitiful in order to be human— _to be wanted._

 

 _Youngling. Scavenger. Rey_.

 

……………………………………………………………

 

 

He wakes with her name singing through his cold veins.

 

_He wakes to her gone._


End file.
